Color the tie red

Posted on 2015.01.24 at 21:03

On Thursday my shoulder was beeping. I swear. More like a ticking. I was holding Rascal in my left arm, and my right shoulder was ticking, and when I tried to localize the sound, it eluded me. Finally I realized that the ticking of my watch was echoing up my sleeve, amplified right near my face. Weird as hell.

Do you remember my New Year's resolution? To document the Fluoride Fighters here in town? Conveniently, they returned to our door to solicit our signature for their petition. I didn't sign their petition, but I did collect their handout.

I've got you now, Fluoride-fighters.

I did big things at Gymnastics Wednesdays! First: I got momentarily into a handstand against a wall. Mostly I've been scared to propel myself hard enough to balance in a handstand. I got over that.

Second, I got myself into the fetal position on the rings, with your back towards the floor. I didn't do it the intensive strength way - instead I figured out how to bypass the correct way and kick myself up into position. But whatever. We keep doing things that start from that fetal position, and it annoyed me that I couldn't even get into the starting position. And now I can.

This is Rascal's first artwork:

It is a very nice xerox of Dr. King, including the word "original" xeroxed along with it. Someone has colored his tie red and we have no idea what contribution our two month old baby supposedly made, because he sure as hell didn't color the tie red.

Rascal has gotten much less screamy. This is crucial; it's the difference for me feeling like I can handle the brood on my own. Which I'll have to do, a lot - Jammies' new race car job has him travelling a lot. (Starting next week, on my birthday. Wah.)

On Thursday (after my shoulder stopped ticking) I drove down to San Antonio and met with the breast surgeon. The current plan is to have the oophorectomy this summer and the mastectomy next fall, after I wean Rascal. The next step is the genetic testing.

(I already got tested, back in 2000, a long time ago. Back then, there was no legislation protecting you that genetic mutations weren't pre-exisiting conditions. There was nothing on the horizon that suggested there would ever be any protection. For all you kiddos out there, pre-existing conditions were reasons that your insurance company could kick you out or refuse to insure you. Kids, way back when, things were even shittier than the shitty mess we've handed you today. The point being: I got tested under a fake name, so that there would be no documentation of my condition.)

The breast surgeon described the surgery and reconstruction. It kind of grossed me out but was also fascinating. She uses your belly fat to replace the breast, and the skin attached to it, to recreate a nipple. She told me about the blood flow to the chunk of fat - how they used to try to preserve the original vein, but it would often get compressed in the process, and so now they use a vein from underneath your arm. They age just like regular breasts. Maybe that's a perk to lose your perks?

I didn't interrupt, even though I'm not planning on having reconstructive surgery. I did tell her that.

It all became very concrete and real, though, to talk about pectoral muscles and drains being installed afterwards to help with the healing, and the corporealness of my body being sliced and diced made me a bit woozy.

For dinner tonight, I made egg salad, and also tortillas spread with Nutella, wrapped around a banana. The Geeblets had never had Nutella before and it seemed like a nice treat. Ace's banana fell on the floor, and the Nutella left a Mr. Hanky-esque mark.

The kids would adore Mr. Hanky, but Jammies and I know it is wiser to withhold it. If they knew about something like that, we would regret it forever and ever.